Opening Book: Unbidden Page 78 (Final Poem of the Book)

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Page 78 Unbidden

3 responses

  1. Why did I miss this? Again, may I say it–your love for poetry from which all poetry springs does swell quietly but steadily and steeps everything that has been made imperfect. Your writing makes me somehow believe that you must have been a living poet in those centuries when a poem is what it was. I do love the above poem as well as the “My Bridge is…” and your sonnet set in a Manhattan apartment. (I’m still hoping to send you my own reading of it as you had encouraged your readers to do.)

    Thank you again, Patrick. You know, of course, that even if I lag behind in your tracks sometimes, I’m your committed follower.

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